AlmostFather
by fiesa
Summary: He tries not to think about the fact that, had some tiny little thing in the past gone differently, she could have been his daughter. OneShot.


**Almost-Father, Almost-Daughter**

_Summary: He tries not to think about the fact that, had some tiny little thing in the past gone differently, she could have been his daughter. OneShot._

_Set: I had the idea when I read Act73 Valentine's Day. But it's set throughout the series until the most recent chapter._

_Warning: Narumi and Mikan and an almost-family relationship. OneShot.  
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_Disclaimer: Standards apply. _

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* * *

_

The chocolate is bitter and salty at the same time.

Mikan must have switched salt and some other ingredient because this chocolate definitely doesn't taste like _chocolate_ at all. Narumi feels sick and tired, having been chased around the entire day by Alice's with nothing else in mind than making fun of him and his latest encounter with Persona is still clearly engraved into his skin. It doesn't hurt as much as it drains him of energy, makes his head spin and his body feel tired and sick and weak. Misaki has already offered him a potion to make him sleep better, thinking it was the lack of sleep that gave him the tired and unhealthy complexion. But he cannot accept any medicine or treatment because then, Misaki will know something is wrong and he will want to know _what_. Narumi would have to tell him about the Elementary Principal and Persona and his Alice and Misaki would be in trouble, too, and as much as he loves to tease his friend, he doesn't want anything to happen to him.

Yes, he feels sick and tired and the chocolate is bitter and salty but Mikan is looking at him with her eyes wide with expectation and her hand in his is warm and reassuring. And he feels exhaustion, bitterness and worry slip into the back of his mind as he focuses on the little girl in front of him.

_Those eyes. Those eyes._

"That was delicious, Mikan-chan!" He tells her and smiles, because he is _not_ lying. She has made chocolate for him and it was her first try and the knowledge that she has thought of him makes his heart warm with happiness. When her eyes start to sparkle and her small hand holds his firmly, he is _almost_ free. Free from Persona's Alice, free from the Principal's threats, free from the promise he hasn't made and still has kept over all these years. He smiles back.

And her tiny hand keeps him anchored to the earth as they walk back.

* * *

He wishes he could help her somehow.

Narumi watches, silently, as she is cornered and pushed out of the family she has worked her hardest to build.

It was her idea, all along. This little girl with her blond pigtails and her huge, clear eyes has been the one who has made those little, scared, rebellious kids a family, who has created bonds and made friends and has drawn them together as humans and as Alice's. Even Natsume belongs with them, now, even if he belongs with _her _more than anything else (and probably more than he realizes). But Natsume can't help her now.

Narumi can't, either.

Koizumi Luna and the Principal are behind this. They are trying to isolate her, to push her away, to make her an outsider. And slowly, they are succeeding. The kids in her class don't talk to her any longer. They ignore her, pretend not to see her. Most of them do, at least. Narumi can see their dilemma: Mikan is nice and she's one of them. But Luna is new and has the aura of someone strange and intriguing, and why should she lie? Maybe Mikan really _is_ blocking her Alice, how are the kids supposed to know? It's obvious she cannot use her Alice whenever Mikan is near. The fact that she hasn't once used her Alice doesn't make them suspicious; they have seen how _sick_ she is. Narumi himself has forbidden her to use her Alice. So maybe Mikan _is _jealous. Natsume spends his time with Luna now, doesn't he? And Mikan seems to do everything to make Luna feel unwelcome. She never has done this before, but maybe that's the way she is? And Natsume – Natsume ignores her, and they have known him far longer than they know Mikan. What Natsume says and does is a measurement for the way everyone talks and acts.

So what is he supposed to do?

He cannot tell her about Luna's Alice. He cannot tell her which role she plays in the Elementary Principal's little games, he can't even tell her what role _he_ is playing. But God, he wishes he could. He hates to see her suffer, to see her having lunch alone in one corner of the class room while all the others are talking and laughing. He hates to see her down, her face without the slightest hint of a smile, the sparkle in her eyes lost.

He wants to hold her and tell her everything will be fine, but he knows he can't.

* * *

It has happened so fast he doesn't believe what he sees.

He sees:

A limp body, arms and legs spread in a position that has to be painful. Black charred skin, red, glistening blood. Blond, short hair, caked with blood, burned and blackened and startlingly pale against the dark floor. Brown eyes, open wide, staring at the ceiling with the emptiness he knows so well and yet never, ever would have expected to see in _these_ eyes.

Narumi sees Yuka, lying on the floor, and something in his mind is unable to grasp the implications of the words _she is dead._ Something in his brain refuses to realize that something has gone wrong, that someone has been a traitor and that the key has been a trap. It sinks into his mind slowly. Not the words _she is dead._ What reaches him first is the realization that _they have been betrayed._

And then, Mikan is cowering over the body of her mother, desperation lacing her voice as she calls for her, and Shiki is shielding her from everyone else and the other children are frozen in shock and Koizumi is watching horrified, as if she hadn't expected _this_ to happen. And nothing else matters, neither the wounds he has received earlier nor the fact that the Elementary Principle is coming nor that his watchdogs are surrounding them or the barrier is failing nor that the sounds from the school grounds are increasing and turning from distant cries and explosions to screams of terror and agony. Nothing matters, _nothing_, except the fact that a little girl just has lost her mother and that her mother was the woman he loved more than anything. But he cannot reach for her because Shiki is guarding her like a hawk and Narumi can barely move. Pain is tearing his heart apart and he pushes it back, _forces_ it into the background of his mind. There is something else he has to think of first, _someone _else who needs him now.

But, as it seems, Narumi has no role in the following conversation and negotiation. It is Shiki, Shiki who was with Yuka all those years, Shiki, who was able to see her, _protect_ her. Shiki, who suddenly is in the position to negotiate the terms of his cooperation _(their _cooperation) with the Elementary Principal and again the girl is caught between the lines of fire. Yes, the Principal will agree to Shiki Masashika's conditions. But _she _won't be part of the agreement.

_No! _Narumi wants to scream. He wants to run to the Principal and choke him, force him to agree completely, force him to surrender. Can't he see he has lost? At the same time, he wants to shake Shiki. _He's placing Yuka's daughter in danger!_ How can he? How _dare_ he?

And then, he looks at Mikan.

And her eyes speak volumes.

It's amazing how this little girl seems to know the world. She is barely thirteen years old and yet her eyes are those of a person that has seen much more than she has, that has experienced so much happiness and pain and loneliness. She has stopped crying, her eyes are dry. Her hands which had been balled up in fists hang loosely by her sides. Her face, once contorted in pain and sadness and plea, is calm and… _happy?_ And Narumi can't move, can't protest. The little girl in front of him has nothing but determination and thankfulness _– yes, thankfulness!_ – in her eyes. He can't help but wonder: Will the world ever pay back what it has been given to by Mikan Sakura? The faith, the hope, the bravery this little girl shows, will it ever be rewarded?

She is sacrificing herself.

Again.

And this time, he won't let _anything_ happen to her.

* * *

It is over.

The silence hanging in the air is almost palpable and Narumi thinks not even the leaves of the trees are moving. The entire grounds are silent, seems to be holding its breath. In the middle of the school grounds, a familiar figure stands.

A lonely figure.

It's still the figure of a girl, even though her face looks far more mature and her body has ripened to the one of a young woman. Her black clothes make her seem even smaller, even paler, and she seems like a ghost of a person he once knew so well but hasn't seen for a long, long time. Yes, she is pale, and her hands shake but her voice is crystal-clear as she reads out word after word of the paper she is holding in her hand. Some kid has used its Alice and she doesn't need a microphone. The circle of spectators around her can hear every single word clearly. Narumi lets his eyes wander across the crowd and names the alien and yet well-known faces. Teachers, students. Children and adults. Women and men.

Mikan's voice is clear. It has changed. So has she.

When she finishes, the silence increases exponentially once again. Until someone starts applauding. Then, a second pair of hands joins in. A third. Four, five, ten, twenty. Fifty. Suddenly, the entire school is applauding this little girl, honoring her for what she has done and what she has sacrificed. And Mikan smiles - a bit shy, a bit sad, but happiness is there, too - and leaves the middle of the circle. Hotaru embraces her as her friends form a circle around her and escort her away. Of course, there are the crowds of people who want to talk to her. Narumi can see some journalists as well as some people from different enterprises who have come to try to scout her. But their circle is impenetrable. Narumi catches Natsume's glance and nods once and knows she'll be safe and sound, wherever they will bring her.

Tomorrow, the academy will be closed to visitors again. Tomorrow, school life will continue like before. Some teachers won't be there anymore and some will have stayed. There will be new rules regarding the talent classes, and new Principals, and a new Student Council. And life will be like before once again.

Or won't it?

Narumi walks across the school grounds and watches a few parents who have come to see the school and have brought younger siblings. A little girl gives a cry of delight as she watches a pair of moving waste baskets disappear around the corner. Her eyes are wide with wonder. It's something Narumi still sees in Mikan's eyes. Not often, not anymore. But every now and then. She isn't the little girl she once was anymore, when she came to the Academy and found a completely strange world. But a part of her always has stayed like this.

It was what has saved her not so long ago, and he is thankful for it.

* * *

Nine, twelve, thirteen, fifteen, eighteen.

Narumi watches as the little girl he knows grows up, as she is shaped by life and fate and destiny. He sees her laugh and cry, smile and frown. He sees her angry and hurt and lost and lonely and happy and patient and desperate and tireless and exhausted. He sees her fight and lose and learn and experience and move on.

And, every now and then, he sees her mother in her.

Mikan has inherited her mother's eyes and her determination, and her father's kindness and understanding. She has so many character traits they had, too – and yet, she is a unique combination of both, able to elevate their very own characters into something entirely different.

Narumi loves _watching _her, almost as much as he loves _her_.

He tries not to think about the fact that, had some tiny thing in the past been changed, _he_ could have been her father. He _refuses_ to think about it because in his heart he knows he never would have been the one to capture Yuka's heart entirely (or, at least, for the first time). He loves both her and their Sensei too much to even think of how he could have replaced him – in another time, another life, perhaps. But the feelings he has towards Mikan don't change.

She could be his daughter.

He cares for her. He has taught her, has lead her, has helped and protected her. In some aspects, he has failed. In others, he has succeeded. He feels the same pride a father feels when watching his little girl grow up, the same desperate urge to protect her, the same wish to see her happy, utterly and entirely. Only the best is good enough for his girl, nobody worthy of being her equal.

(_Not even Natsume, the brat.)_

Is it possible?

How can he love her as he has loved her mother and her father and, at the same time, as if she was his daughter? He doesn't care. It is of no consequence, has no impact on his feelings. She has saved him, several times even, and he would have done far more than he has done in order to protect her. He would have gone to the ends of the world, wherever she wanted him to go, wherever he needed to go. But she never has requested it and it never has been necessary. He doesn't need to excuse his own feelings to himself, either. He loves her. What else does matter?

In a way, she _was_ his daughter.

* * *

"Naru-Sensei!"

Her voice rang out clear and like a song. When he turned, he saw her: in her High School uniform, her hair open and shoulder-length, her eyes and her face smiling at him. _Just like her mother._ She was waving at him, her gestures still mirroring the ecstatic joy children displayed. Still, it was a graceful gesture carrying so much beauty he shortly wondered whether any person possessed the same elegance.

_Of course not._

She still was a child, in his eyes, even though she had graduated now. She still was his one great love, even though she had died years ago. She was his savior in form of a strange teacher, and a reminder to a promise he hadn't wanted and yet had honored for such a long time. And which had become his own promise.

"Are you coming, Naru-Sensei?"

Behind her, her friends were waiting, ready to continue the celebrations. Students, teachers and guests crowded the school grounds, leaving the great hall in which the graduation ceremony had taken place. Laughter danced through the air and a soft tune still floated along with thousands of flower petals an Alice had released. Coffee and cakes were brought to the gardens, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Colorful garlands adorned the trees, a squad of elementary students had spent the entire last week decorating, cleaning and grooming the Academy grounds. Memories of the past faded into the background of his mind, gave place to another feeling he couldn't immediately place and left it to define it later. He smiled.

"Of course."

She still was, and always would be, his almost-daughter.


End file.
